


when fell winter

by solitariusvirtus



Series: Uncanny Westeros (Otherworlds) [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, R plus L equals J, Reverse Chronology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: A dark point on the horizon caught her attention. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, she squinted at the blackened dot. “Mother! Dragons!” her son yelled, tugging on her skirts fiercely.Fire slowly melts ice and winter thaws into the coming spring.AU! Eight thousand years and countless lives later, the combined efforts of human and beast shows result. Or, the North, last of the kingdoms in thrall to the agents of winter, shakes off the chains. With interesting results.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [tell a lie (if you must)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787805) by [solitariusvirtus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus). 



i

Catelyn held Lyanna’s hand, an understanding look upon her face. “Do not stay out here too long. The wind is still cutting. And after so exhausting a day, you mustn’t tempt fate.” The mewling bundle in her arms paused in its incessant labour. “Your daughter will want feeding as well.”

“I will be down shortly.” The babe received a soft kiss of her before she was whisked away by her aunt. Catelyn could be depended upon to come with her up to the ramparts most days. She said it kept her from dwelling on Ned’s absence. But his absence would come at an end one of these days; at least there was that consolation.

For herself, Lyanna kept her hope under tight lock. Expectations she’d no need of, nor any desire for. And yet she came up here day after day, in hopes that might be there would be wide wings stretched in flight. There had been none and it was turns since she’d sent word. It had been her hope that might be he would wish to see his daughter.    

A dark point on the horizon caught her attention. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, she squinted at the blackened dot.  

“Mother! Dragons!” her son yelled, tugging on her skirts fiercely.

ii

“I am going to miss you very dearly,” she told Rhaegar, keeping her embrace upon him tight. He had been most distant since came word of Sansa Stark’s arrival in the world, but Lyanna had not expected any different. Thus she worked on soothing what she could. “Might be you would come visit me sometime, on your way to the Wall.” Winterfell was in his path. Why should he not stop to see her, after all?

“You know I will not.” He brushed her hold away and gripped her by the shoulders. His features were so severe. Lyanna allowed herself a mellow smile. “It is best that I do not. Letting go once is enough.” Then he should not let go. She wet her lips, yet never said it. Nay, she had refused him once and he’d never broached the subject again.  

“Take care of your health then, Your Majesty.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Lyanna worked to convince herself she was willing to pay the price. “I shall pray for you.”

A brief smile touched his lips. He nodded the rest of her words away and pushed her into the waiting embrace of a wheelhouse.

Their son had fallen asleep wrapped a mound of furs.

iii

Her son was chasing the silver-haired Daenerys, named for her mother. He caught a handful of her kirtle and tugged her backwards. Being both older and stronger, her little boy managed it admirably despite the squeals of protest coming from his prey. She kicked at him with trembling legs even as laughter shook them both. It was a heartening sight.

Viserys stood in the doorway, apparently more than enchanted with the sight of the pair. “Used to do that to my sister all the time,” he commented. Lyanna offered a small nod of consolation. No father could love his daughter more. “She would have been so pleased to see them thus. Told Rhaegar to wed the two of them.”

“My son is not his heir.” Or at least she did not know it to be the case. But there was no cause to hope. A price she was willing to pay, if not entirely pleased.

iv

Incoherent gurgles spilled over the soft wrappings. The babe hand flailed about as though he prepared his arm for the wielding of heavy weaponry. She smiled at the sight, but more so at the rapt attention of the father. “He is your first child then?” She’d not dared ask before. For many a reason. Not the least of which being a stillbirth.

“I never truly sought out to become a father,” he answered, allowing the boy to grasp his finger in a firm clasp. Rhaegar looked up from their son’s face into hers. “He has a strong grip. He’ll be a fine warrior someday.” Pride coloured the sentiment. Lyanna felt her heart swell.

“He has a fine example to take after.” Shifting against the mound of pillows, she opened her arms. Rhaegar relinquished the child after a few moments. “He will need a strong name. But do not tell me what you have chosen. I would not wish for him to be so easily found.”  

Her babe’s father was more understanding than she would have imagined. Truly, there was not a man who more deserved joy in whatever form it came to him. Lyanna pushed away the knowledge that it was all temporary.

Viserys gave her an odd look but offered no comment. He did, however, mount an attack upon the laughing children who, true to the Targaryen nature, responded with bravery. She clapped her hands encouragingly at her boy climbing on his uncle’s back. A fine warrior indeed.     

Shortly came word of her brother’s daughter.

v

Worry touched her brow. Lyanna pushed away at the bowl of gruel. It could not be. But then why not? She had not protested his presence in his bed, just as she’d accepted everything else to do with her stay here. “Surely this does not come as a surprise to you.” Daenerys lifted an eyebrow, presumably at Lyanna’s expression. “You should have just allowed him to make you his wife.”

“You do not understand.” The words were a whisper. “I do not blame you. He is a good man.” The Dragonqueen agreed. “And he had been unfailingly kind to me. One would be hard-pressed to find another men his like.”   

“Yet you won’t stay.” Her observation was tinged with something Lyanna could not decipher. “I do not understand, as you say. Would it be too much to ask for an explanation?”

“Winterfell is home, and until very recently it was not truly mine. Now it is. Is it so wrong of me to wish for home?” A hesitant denial sprang upon the dragonrider’s lips. “I just want a little bit of it. Surely that does not make me heartless.”

vi

He landed amid the clusters of timber and rock. The warlock heading the efforts offered a brief greeting but upon his order returned to the task set before him. Lord Stark was slower to arrive, but he did nevertheless, upon his steed. The horse snorted and reared at the sight of the dragon slithering about, enjoying the soft snow.  

“Congratulation on your son,” he found himself saying without meaning to.

The wolf nodded slowly, as though the words merited consideration. “I will have a daughter someday soon.” The warning extracted a brief smile. He must have missed his sister. Having been attached to his own siblings for most of their lives, Rhaegar could not say he understood. He acknowledged the difficulty of his situation.

“And I shan’t give her back any one time before that. Lady Catelyn is to your liking?” Chosen purposefully was what the lady was. His mind rang with her father’s words. No need to linger over those.

“She is an exemplary lady.” Which truly said little. He would content himself with that much. “The warlocks think they’ve found a way to work around the runes. A pity we’ve no ice dragons after all.”

“We shall make do with what we do have.” 

“Sometimes we know not our loss until the exchange has been made. I expect you shall be happy when it comes time to remove home.” 

vii

“If I wed you, I could never return to my home.” A frown marred her features. It occurred to him she was trying to make up her heart rather than her mind. Would it be so very cruel for him to demand it? She could not rightly refuse. “It would break my heart.”

Her strongest defence, a shield he dared not lift the sharp edge of his authority against. “And that we cannot have.” The words were only half-mocking. “Very well then. Remain as you are.” Might be he would just wed one of those daughters forever pushed his way. 

He wouldn’t. Damned witch and her predictions.

The she-wolf took him by the hand and squeezed. What he was to do with that, Rhaegar could not tell. She’d meant it as comfort, likely as not. “I have some matters to attend to, my lady.”

The corners of her mouth lifted minutely. “Do not be too long. Winter might be gone for the moment but the chill still lingers.”

He nodded and pulled his hand from her grasp. Lyanna took a step back and one more until she’d reached a wicker chair. She sat and he turned.

viii

Daenerys scratched the dragon’s head. “You could wed her. With all the bed sport she provides, she’ll be carrying before long.” The beast stretched out its wings, growling low in its throat. Rhaegar’s own was soaring somewhere ahead. “You could have an heir. Would that not be a grand thing?”

“I told you I shall be pleased with the heir you and Viserys provide.” His sister rolled her eyes. “What is it, Dany?”

“I was thinking more about you than the kingdom, brother. She might have a daughter instead. Either way, even if fate intervenes, that way at least, I can be certain you won’t lock yourself away somewhere to brood all day long over your loss.” He did so hate it when she spoke of it in certainties.

“And a child would help with that?” Her nod of confirmation was naught short of irritating. “You have lost your mind.”

“And we could wed the children, yours and mine. ‘Tis only fair, and thus all will be satisfied.” It was good to know she had it all figured out. Rhaegar gave a bark of laughter. “Do not refuse me yet, brother. The idea might tempt you later on.”

ix

“A son.” Rhaegar breathed out in relief. He pushed the parchment away and brushed a hand over his face. There was still time. Viserys was watching him with mild amusement, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Do not say it.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“This is not half as entertaining as I hoped it would be. Yet I admit I am diverted.” His smile lengthened. “Defying fate is not so much to your taste anymore, is it, brother?” Would that he could glare Viserys into an early grave, but since that was not at all possible, he’d have to make do with the faint glee his brother offered so freely.

“It would be useless to wish you as compliant to your own fate. You never did know how to oppose it.” And he was the happier for it. At times, Rhaegar loathed his siblings. “Leave me. I’m in no mood for your talks on this day.”

“You never are. I’ll leave you to contemplate you good fortune then, shall?” Nonplussed by the inkwell that came sailing his way, Viserys effaced himself from Rhaegar’s presence, laughter lingering in his wake.

x

He knew her inside out. Rhaegar forced his eyes upon the domed ceiling. It was much too dark to make out the soaring dragons and the other beasts gathered about. The wolves were still missing, but soon enough they would be there as well. Absently, he caressed the smooth stands spilling over Lyanna’s back.

Knowing her did not necessarily lessen the pain. But to his relief, it did not increase it either. They were what they were and no amount of dithering would change that. He chuckled lightly. Fate was not to be escaped. She stirred at his side.

Rhaegar allowed himself just one short glance at her, to assure himself she slept. The wetness had dried from her cheeks, but he suspected her eyes would still be watery upon the morrow. She curled together against him, lips brushing his shoulder with the shifting of position. If then gods had been laughing before, they must have choked on so much merriment by this point.

“You are not sleeping?” She half-rose to look at him. “’Tis late. Or might be–” She slanted her lips against his, the movement clumsy, from sleep, or aught else.      

“Prepared to help me with that, are you?”

Good fortune. There would be a daughter one of these days.  

He rather hoped it never did.

Something had changed between them. It felt irrevocable.   

xi

Ink splattered across the front of her kirtle, staining the snow-white into deep blackness. Her skin suffered under like treatment, all lines and smudges until she could have been kin to that dratted cat prowling the halls of his keep. But she did not seem disconcerted either with the indecorous image she presented or with his attention riveted upon her.

“I grow more defiant with every attempt to intimidate me,” the she-wolf allowed, not breaking contact. “Might be it would be wiser still to send me to my brother. I am not needed here.” Had she spoken to Elia might be? Nay. He supposed if anyone would betray that secret to her it would be Daenerys; of all people.

“You are very certain.” What did it matter if he defied fate, after all? The one he’d wished to do it for had embraced hers. Hearts changed.

“My brother has his wall to build. I doubt he’d have the time or inclination to cross anyone.” He would love her and she would leave him. He did already feel the pangs and she was trying to. Rhaegar laughed. He may not be able to change his destiny, but he would meet it on his terms.

“I am contented to keep you here awhile longer. You are good company.” If he’d bothered to spend even a little bit of time in her presence she might well have been. “I throw we’ll get on well.”

“You do not even know me.” A sigh fell from her lips. “Tell me about the prophecy.”

xii

The maegi’s dry looks should have sent him into a rage. It had to be what the hag had been expecting. “Well, great king,” she drawled from her seat, hands in her lap, “have you found what you were looking for?” He should have just had her burnt, for all the good that would have done him.

“I am not yet despairing,” he answered calmly. “Nor am I in any hurry to see your prophecy fulfilled.” She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him with something akin to pity. “What did you mean in that last line of yours?”

“Only what I told you,” the maegi returned coldly. “But since you are set against allowing fate its course, why should that matter a whit? Might be you have changed your heart. Might be you now find there is more than just words to it. She has brought you to your knees, and if not yet, then she will do so soon.”

He scowled. “To my knees,” he repeated thoughtfully. Nay, not there. Not yet. “You are mistaken.” Would she though? The pull was strong, that much he could admit to himself.

The seer shrugged. “If that is how you’ll have it.” It occurred to Rhaegar that she was laughing at him. Her eyes twinkled merrily. Gods must be amused by misery, he told himself, maintaining his composure under the blood-red gaze scrutinising him. “Best you run along now. I should think a kingdom is not run by itself.”

“Much you know about the running of kingdoms.”  

xiii

The ghost of a kiss raised goosebumps all over once-smooth uncovered flesh. ‘Twas not cold enough for any complaint to be made as a small fire crackled and popped, nestled in the hearth. The thick log embraced by dainty fire-limbs blackened and withered beneath the loving touch, the rind shrivelling, peeling away bit by bit, flecks gliding into thin ash to fall into the heap of slowly accumulating cinders at the short fence, thin iron bars keeping the prisoners locked away from the pristine floors proved themselves to be worthy guards.    

Rhaegar kept a steady gaze upon his constant companion. Elia flushed lightly but did not desist. “If you order it, I shall have to go through, as I am a woman of my word.” But she was hoping he would set her free. “I did consider if it might be just my insecurities plaguing me. Yet he is kind and good to me. I could not ask for a man who loved me more.”

“Then I see myself left without a choice.” If he were entirely honest with himself, he would have acknowledged the tendril of relief creeping upon him.

“I did not do it to thwart your plans,” she assured him. She might not have done so, not knowingly at any rate. “There are other women who would take my place. You need but look.”

And yet he had no wish to defy his star for any of them. Rhaegar offered a brief nod and swallowed the last dregs of his wine. “I shall pray he makes you happy for the rest of your days then. And if he does not, I will break his legs.”

Elia laughed. “Oberyn might take issue at your usurping him.”

xiv

Home was not home. He knew it the moment his gaze met Elia’s. Her face looked tired. She seemed unhappy. Nevertheless, her greeting was warm, tonged with just a hint of regret. Rhaegar embraced her back, holding the questions in his mind from springing from his lips.

“Are they truly defeated?” she asked softly, her voice just as he remembered it. He looked into her face. Had he ever realized she was quite that tall? Dark eyes searched his. “It must have been grueling.”

“It was,” he agreed, maintaining his hold. “We have pushed them back beyond the mountains. Gods we willing we shall have out wall. I’ve left your brother there.”

“You couldn’t ask for a better man,” Elia laughed. Her eyes flickered to something behind them. “Is that her? I expected someone more–“ Her breath hitched. “Just more. Do you feel the pull?” Her smile faded.

His died just as swift a death. “Not here.” Anywhere else but before a thousand eyes. “I am just returned from war, my lady, and have no wish for aught other than rest.”

“Come then, brave warrior. Rest you shall.” She led him away and he allowed it, with only one last look to the dragons. Daenerys and Viserys had them well in hand. He consciously avoided searching the sea of faces for Lyanna Stark.    

“Let him do so.” 

xv

It would be an understatement to say his newest ally was displeased. But Eddard Stark did little more than regard him with a flinty gaze. “She will, of course, be given every comfort. As any other guest would.” Golden bondage was still very much bondage; he supposed the wolves of Winterfell would know better than he. 

“How long?” the young man questioned after a brief pause. He needn’t have spoken so quietly. It was just the two of them in these parts.

“The warlocks did manage to consult some of your scrolls. What I want may take generations. And I assume you’d like your sister back before that. I propose to you this, your sister shall stay a guest in my home until you’ve a daughter to send in her stead.”

“I am not wedded,” the wolf pointed out, a glint in his eyes.

“That is naught to worry over. There will be a bride. Until that time,” he trailed off. The new lord knew what to do. And truly it was no business of his how the man took his sister’s absence. He wanted to defy fate only. And that could be done without taking Eddard Stark into account. 

Rhaegar blinked the thought away.

xvi

“You could leave her here,” his brother was saying, arm still slung around the serenely smiling sister. “We don’t need to follow anyone’s words but our own. You already said you would not allow your fate to be dictated by a crazed woman. Unless,” Viserys trailed off with a smile and a shrug.

Daenerys leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder and pursed her lips. “I think you want it to not be true.” Rhaegar observed her silently. “And I think you are finding it is true after all. And it frightens you.” Her fingers laced with Viserys’ a moment later. “Have I read you wrong?”

“You know me too well for that to happen,” he finally volunteered. “I do not run from a challenge. Not even one set before me by the gods. And I bow before no one. Least of all before the utterances of a maegi.” He set his cup away and allowed his gaze to roam the spacious solar. He just wishes it did not feel like folly.

“That is not at all unexpected,” Daenerys laughed gently, climbing to her feet. “I am for bed, brothers. All this conquering has left me exhausted.” Viserys saluted her departure with a raise of his glass while he merely nodded. And then there was no more Daenerys with her frightening clarity.

“Tell me truly, why are you taking her? Her brother is yours no matter what.”

“I want.”

xvii

Ned returned. He brought with him small urns. On his back, strapped securely was the blade she’d seen just once in her entire life. Ice shone brilliantly in the low light, its hungry hum resonating with aught deep inside of her. Lyanna lowered her gaze. Not for the sword, but for the newest arrival.

The elder brother. He was so akin to those creatures. Like his kin. She supposed not even burning heat could melt away the innate coldness. There was no need to look up to know he approached. Lyanna resisted neither coaxing, nor wheedling. He lifted her face ever so gently, as though she were thin ice ready to break. “Stark.”

It was not a question. And his voice was not cold; not like the crackling ice splitting against her ear-drums when one of those creatures spoke. His voice reminded her of mulled wine. Just shy of sweet, with a sharp bite to it.

They eyes met and held. He’d used the name as her brother used the name. “Lyanna,” she offered, not knowing herself why. He nodded down at her, a light frown touching his features. His warmth fled as he parted company with her, apparently finding aught he wished to see more.

Ned came to her though.    

xviii

The woman called herself Daenerys Dragonqueen. She had a sweet face, large eyes and a mouth made for smiling. She was younger than Lyanna. And she wore her heart on her sleeve, not even the slightest shred of artifice to her.  She wore fastened at her neck a pendant, a queer thing of black gemstones, in the form of a three-headed dragon. “My brother says these stones shall ignite with fire when the Prince that was promised is born.” She was speaking of the older one, the one Lyanna had not seen for he’d not lingered.  The younger she had seed that morning, come to bid his lovely bride a fiery farewell. “Viserys laughs overtime and says he’ll give me many sons to try it on.” He was her brother too, but she did not call him that. “You do not talk much.”

Lyanna shrugged. “There is nothing to say.” As ever, she was a captive in her own home. The masters were not as cruel, true, but she expected they would show their true faces sooner or later. She was, in essence, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“You must be worried about your brother.” At least she would never have to worry about long silences. “You needn’t be. I have seen him fight.” Brandon had been the more skilled swordsman.   

xix

Smoke crawled through the tiny gaps, suffusing the carpets and the wood and the stone. Lyanna held her sleeve to her face, trying to block out as much of it as she could. Her lungs were screeching in protest at her choice of hiding spot, but it was too late to search for aught else. Her limbs had fallen into lethargy and her head was spinning.

At least those bastards would not have even a piece of her. It was worth dying in a blaze of flames. It felt oddly satisfying. Except for the part where she would never see her brother again. But then sh’d have mother and father and Brandon and Benjen.

A thin sound wailed with alarming clarity, making her ears ring. Lyanna’s eyes snapped open. She had only a moment to consider the large shadow above her before she was hauled away from the safety of her trunk. Panic choked her at the tendrils of silver.

Dark steel rose before her eyes and slashed across the chamber, impaling an approaching soldier clad in ice.

And then she saw Ned, dagger in hand, watching her through alarmed eyes.

Pain constricted her throat. She could not allow herself to hope. She could not allow herself to dream.

Darkness had come and it tugged mercilessly at her. What else could she do but give in and fall into the inviting embrace.

xx

The agonised screams of dying men were too far off for her to hear. But Lyanna imagined them, eyeing the smoke rising from far afield. But she is protected behind tall walls. Her knees buckle under the weight of uncertainty and her eyes dare a glance at the guards. The icy tips of their lances split the streaming gale. It would serve them right if they lost and were bathed in dragonfire. Might be a new master would be easier to endure.

Nay. What was she thinking? Better the devils she knew than the ones who stood to change all the rules. Her shoulder squared. Something rose in the distance, through the smoke. It was large. Might be one of those creatures. It had to be. Lyanna swallowed her apprehension and turned around. She walked towards the inner sanctum of the belfry. If all was lost, she did not wish to know it.

Lyanna descended into the welcoming darkness, dodging the servants when she encountered them upon the stairs. They did not address her either. Her blood churned with the inevitability of change. The gods must be laughing at her. Why else would they rain down such torment with no end in sight? Pain amused them. 

xxi

Lyanna ran into her brother’s arms, wrapping aching limbs around a tall stalk of humanity whose face she could barely reconcile with the hopeful boy that had promised her safety. Eddard wound his arms around her as well, wound and cuts ignored in favour of holding her tightly. “You cannot know how it pains me to have returned.” And it pained her even more to hear him say it. “I have failed all of you.”

But he is shackled and bruised all over. If he did not meet his end upon the field of battle, it was not for a lack of trying. “It was a foolish promise to have made, Ned. I need someone too. Have you considered that?”

“You are Stark.” She thought he used it both as compliment and as identity. “As long as there is a Stark in Winterfell, there is hope.”

“Between the two of us there are no more.” He was bound to find out as some point.

“Benjen?” Her brother’s voice broke.

“For all I know, those vile fire-breathers have taken even the small comfort of his presence from us.”

“Better that they have. Benjen would not have wished to serve their purposes.”     

They were forced to part ways before long.

xxii

Very little privacy was afforded to her. Lyanna supposed it to be the nature of captivity. But even birds in a glided cage liked to know, at times, that they might close their eyes and not imagine themselves surrounded by hungry vultures. She grimaced at the thing before her. “I would have thought illustrious warriors have battles to see to.”

“It would please you, I am sure,” he replies. She assumed it was a man. It was awfully difficult to tell for there was an ethereal quality to these beings. “Fret not. I will leave soon. I just wished to see you before I do.” Her scowl deepened.    

“You have.” Her icy reply was rewarded with light laughter. There was no worry for her virtue, nor any sense of shame, for she knew his want of her marked a different desire than any one of her own father’s men might have. Would that he’d wanted only that other thing.

“You are the last one. After we’ve won, I will take you with me.” To be his thrall throughout eternity. She would have flung herself from the highest tower were she not persuaded he’d take her unprotected carcass if he could.

“If you win.” His laughter only served to further incense her. Had she even a smidgeon of their long-lost power, she would have struck him sternly. As it was, Lyanna retreated further into her covers. “Leave. The chamber grows cool with your presence.” He did not have to listen to her, but might be he’d grown bored, for he did.   

xxiii

“You will not defile my brother, wretched fiend,” she cried out, throwing herself against the armour-clad warrior. But the creature either did not understand, or did not care for it ripped her away with one fell swoop and pushed her into the arms of its companions. Its voice cracked over her ears, the lashes stinging, albeit no more than her pain at being unable to protect her bother. Stepping over her pride, she parted her lips, “I am begging you. Let him rest. I will give you other men for your armies.”

To no avail. The creature holding her simply grabbed firmly at her shoulders and dragged her away. Lyanna struggled and screamed for half of the way until she had quite assured herself it was a useless endeavour. She would not get Benjen back. Displeasure flattened her mouth, straightening her features into stern lines. She refused to weep. Not for these monsters. And not for those other monsters. They would not have their pleasure of her.

“My father will return. With my brothers.” A crackle followed her statement. It sounded derisory. “Laugh all you want. But until the flesh has been picked from my bones, I will fight with everything I have. There must be some way to see you fall.” Not even their foul sorcery could last forever.  

xxiv

Benjen wiped a hand across his chapped lips and favoured her with a grim smile. “You know they will take me whether I wish it or not.” He’d been spared thus far, of course, but the gods knew the Queen grew impatient and Lyanna more desperate by the hour. “You are the one I worry for though; all alone here. Someone might try to take advantage.”

“They are too cowed by their presence,” she managed between clenched teeth. But for how long, really? “So long as they do battle, I am safe.” As safe as she would ever be from their gazes and touches. Lyanna sighed and held her brother’s hand. “Hurry and get well, brother. I miss riding with you.”

“And I as well.” His chuckle was thin, parchment-like. Was he so very close top leaving her? “But I would sooner ride with mother. She always had more grace and a kinder tongue.” At that she scowled, to please him. “Exactly my meaning. You are much too morose. Smiles fit you better.”

Smiles were for sweet girls. Lyanna’s face had too long been pinched with worry for her to remember what it was to truly smile. But she could do very good imitations. That she did not tell her kin. “Sleep. I grow weary of your prattling. Father will want you well upon his return. I would not dare disappoint him.”

xxv

The thorns-adorned vines coiled around her wrist, sharp points pricking painfully into her skin as slim fingers curled around the budding flower. She dared not look away from it, lest she chance to gaze into her father’s face and see within the truth which haunted as only crushing certainty could. “I shall ride myself in front of the troops,” the man was saying, his voice loud in the quiet of the garden. “I entrust all else to you, Lyanna.”

Droplets of blood dragged across her flesh. “I shall do the best I can, father.” She brushed the silky petals in her palm, pain pulsing with a vengeance. Straightening, she released her prey, watching blood-stained bits of blue flutter top the ground. “You needn’t leave with worry in your heart.”

The burden pressed across her shoulders as she finally turned around, meeting the gaze of the man who’d raised her. How grievous it seemed to her that he looked a man in his old age when only a short span of years stood between him and the agile, brave warrior of youth. She took a step towards him, uncertain but determined. “Would you bring me something, when you should return victorious?”

He nodded indulgently, taking her injured hand and examining the wound. “Whatever it is you wish for.” Sometimes she wondered if he saw mother when he looked at her with those eyes. Lyanna forced her lips into a confident smile.

“My brothers.” The Others would not have them for much longer.

   

**Author's Note:**

> _And the Others WILL PAY for the Wall._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry, I could not resist the joke. It's too damn funny.
> 
> Well, you've just wasted fifteen minutes of your lives on this; you might as well make it a round twenty and let me know how you've enjoyed it.


End file.
